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Regional,
Monthly All-Breed Horse Magazine • Since 1993 |
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Copyright 2011 Rocky Mountain Rider. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Reproduction of any editorial material, artwork and photos is strictly forbidden without express written permission of the publisher. For information about reprint rights, please contact the editor; editor@rockymountainrider.com.
Nevada
I
was 11 years old and I will never forget the first time I laid eyes on my horse.
A friend pointed him out to me because he was for sale. He had a little girl on
him and I went over to meet him. I swear it was love at first sight. I was
supposed to buy another horse but I went home and told my mom that I had to have
this horse that I had seen today. His
name was I
would spend from sun up till sun down at the ranch hanging with my horse and my
other friends. I mostly rode him on the trails. I wanted to see him every single
day. I dreaded when we would go away because I would constantly worry about him.
I didn’t go away to college because I couldn’t imagine leaving him behind. He
had the deepest nicker and we used to talk to one another all the time. I found
out he loved Hawaiian punch, red vines and jolly ranchers. He would just lift
his head high and I would pour the Hawaiian punch in his mouth. He couldn’t
get enough. His lips and tongue would be so red and he licked his lips for
minutes trying to savor the flavor!
He had a stroke but lived to be 37 years old. People used to ask me why
or how he lived so long and I told them that he probably thought he was already
in heaven! Nine years has passed since he left me, but not a day goes by that I
don’t think about him and about how much I miss him! — A Sally One
of my first horses, (being raised on a ranch I had several) was Sally. Sally was
a tall, blaze-faced chestnut who was part thoroughbred and had once had a brush
with sleeping sickness, which didn’t affect her much except she was a little
slow for cow work, hence, becoming a kids’ horse. I was only about five when I
started riding, and I was the “littlest cowboy on the biggest horse” as
Sally was probably around 16 hands tall. One
of my fondest memories of Sally was once when we were moving cattle, and came to
a reservoir. Sally decided to wade in for a drink, and came close to getting
bogged down in the black mud. “Jump
off,” my dad yelled as Sally struggled to get out.
“No! I’ll get my new boots muddy!” I yelled back, gripping the
saddle horn in a death grip. Sally finally struggled to shore, and I kept my new
boots clean. — Cynthia J. Rhoades, Have you got a story about your first horse? Visit our Horsepeople’s Forum online and tell us about your horse!
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Rocky
Mountain Rider Magazine • Montana Owned & Operated |
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